Think Of Me
by Crystal Shores
Summary: After the death of her child, Christine leaves Raoul to live with Mme. Giry. But can she move on by herself? Or does she need help? And where does the Phantom fit into all of this? EC I know! The title is SO original...
1. A Song to Remember

**A/N: At first, this was published as a oneshot. However, I found skeletons of chapters I had forgotten in my closet, and decided to compile them into a somewhat organized story. This is somewhay of a prolouge.**

**_This Chapter is dedicated to Hope, however small. _**

**_Without which, our world would crumble._**

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A Song Worth Remembering

She had made a mistake two years ago today. _We were too young. _She thought sadly. _We didn't understand love…..I didn't understand. _Many a time did she think of the life she once knew, of the songs she once sang, of the man who had led her into a world that entirely revolved around music. Of the man who taught her to lose herself within that world. Of the man who she had loved, but never admitted her love towards. And as she thought of these things, her heart became so filled with sorrow, that she ran outside into her garden. Raoul could never know of her feelings. It would break his heart. Or at least….she thought it would. This past year had been in turmoil. She and Raoul had grown further and further apart. They had even discussed a divorce; they had married too young they said. But then, Clara had been born, and a divorce would have scarred Raoul's social reputation. Christine wouldn't have given up her daughter for anything, but Clara's birth clinched her marriage, and she could not leave. As she wandered through her garden in beautiful Italy, an urge to sing again overcame her. The feeling surprised her. She hadn't sung a note since she had left the opera house; it would have been too painful. But a song that she had sang once upon a happier time stuck in her memory, and she began to sing. She couldn't remember all of the words, and her voice was a little strained from lack of use, but it was still beautiful. And so, to the tune of a song that her Angel of Music had taught her, Christine sang the following words.

_Think of me, Think of me fondly though we've said goodbye. Remember me, as I do you. Please promise me you'll try. Now I've found, that once again I long, to try again to be with you. My heart always and forever, will belong to you._

_Voices fade, the sound of music fades, lasting a second or two. But one thing that never fades is my true love for you. So think of all the things we've shared and seen. I cry over the way things might have been._

_Think of me, Think of me haply though I have hurt you, I'm sorry; I shouldn't have done what I indeed did do. Recall those days, look back on all those times, think of the things we'll never do. Will you ever think of me, the way I think of you?_

_Dreams don't last, these years flew by so fast, and you don't know how I've missed you. My heart will forever break, until I can see you._

Two people heard her that day. One was Raoul De Changy, who had come outside to find his wife and wish her a happy wedding anniversary. But when he heard her song, he went back inside, furious at her, and tried to ignore her. The other was not anywhere near her. And was in fact hundreds of miles away. But a bond had been forged between them years ago, and weak though it was, her song had been sung from her heart, and he heard it. And so at the same time Raoul was fuming, far, far away, in an old Opera house, a man near death lifted his head, and sobbed. Remembering the days when she was his student, and he her Angel of Music.

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**A/N: Yes, yes. I know! Blatant lyrical insertion. Do not worry! This is the only chapter in which I will be guilty of such a crime...maybe.**

**Please review.**


	2. Death is Silent

**_This chapter is dedicated to tears. Because when I am sad, they come to comfort me._**

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Death is Silent

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That night, Christine was restless. She had tried to sleep, but could not manage it. Her husband had been in a sour mood all evening, and Clara had been crying almost ceaselessly. The only words Raoul had said to her all evening were;

"Quiet that infernal squealing!"

Now, Christine stood by Clara's cradle, as moonlight streamed in through the window. She stroked Clara's still form.

"_Lullaby, Don't you cry, It will be alright.." _The baby opened her eyes. She looked as though she was crying, but no sound came. She gave several choking coughs. Christine hurriedly picked her up. She could feel that the child wasn't breathing.

"Raoul!" Christine screamed. "The baby!" hurried footsteps were soon followed by the appearance of her husband. He took the child and patted her gently on the back, with no results. By now, a maid and Brutus, their butler, had come up to the room to see what was the matter.

"Sarah," Raoul snapped, addressing the maid. "take Christine to our room."

"No!" cried Christine, tears streaming down her face. "My baby! Oh, my baby!"

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Christine stared out the window. The blue sky seemed to be mocking her. Clara was dead. The doctor had come too late. He said that the baby's weak heart appeared to have given out. To Christine, it seemed it had taken her heart along with it. The funeral had already happened. Christine vaguely remembered several people in the living room, all trying to comfort her. She remembered the words of the priest, all seeming to flood together in a drone of speech. Useless. Words and comforting cannot bring back from the grave. Raoul came to stand next to her.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

"Do you really need to ask?" Christine replied emotionlessly. Raoul patted her on the head.

"Don't worry." He smiled. "There'll be other children. Maybe this time, it'll be a boy." Christine stood up, eyes flaring.

"How dare you!" she hissed. "How dare you even suggest it! I am not having another child with you ever again! 'Maybe it'll be a boy'? Is that what you wanted? A boy? Is that why you don't care that Clara died? Because she was a _girl_?" Raoul frowned.

"Christine," he said in a commanding tone of voice. "do not speak like that. You will have my children."

"_Your _children?!" Christine shrieked. "Did it ever occur to you that Clara was mine too?" she stormed towards the door.

"You obey me this instant!" Raoul yelled furiously. "You are my wife!" Christine whirled around.

"Yes, funny thing about that." She spat. "We weren't married in front of the church, so technically, we aren't married at all!" she threw her wedding band at him. Raoul looked horrified.

"You mean I am the father of a _bastard_?" he asked disgustedly. Christine laughed, an awful, high laugh, with no joy in it whatsoever.

"Yes!" She smiled insanely. "A bastard!" Raoul backed away from her. "Oh," cried Christine. "You needn't worry about me! I wrote to Madame Giry, and I'm moving back to the Opera house! Good-bye, selfish man!" With that, she left the room, leaving a very angry and confused husband in her wake.

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**A/N: Please review.**


	3. Poor, Unhappy Erik

**A/N: Yes, I know it is short. C'est La Vie.**

**_This chapter is dedicated to thoughts._**

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**Poor, Unhappy Erik**

Madame Giry was sitting in her private sitting room. Very few people were allowed to enter it. Her daughter and Christine were the only ones who really ever saw it, with the exception of Erik of course, whom she regarded as a son. Currently, she was mending one of her ballet girls' tights by the light of a candle. She heard a light tapping coming from the wall behind her.

"Come in, Erik." She smiled. A section of paneling slid away to reveal the dreaded Phantom of the Opera. He came into the room, sliding the panel back into place behind him.

"Good evening, Margarett." He whispered.

"Erik," scolded Mme. Giry. "eet eez just me. You 'ave no reason to whisper." Erik smiled wanly.

"Margarett," he said, still whispering. "I am sorry. But I have grown used to quiet. Even a whisper is loud…" he trailed off. Mme. Giry smirked.

"Well, Erik," she replied. "zen you must become re-accustomed to noise. Guess who eez coming to visit me." Erik sighed.

"Not your annoying cousin, I hope." He whispered.

"No," smiled Mme. Giry, not looking up from her sewing. "eet eez someone you know much better zan my cousin." Erik thought about it for a moment, then, not coming up with anyone, he sighed.

"Tell me who it is." Mme. Giry smiled.

"Oh," she said, still looking at her sewing. "no-one special. Just Christine Daae." Erik nearly choked.

"Margarett!" he exclaimed. "Are you _mad_? The poor girl will be terrified the entire time she's here!" Mme. Giry smiled.

"Zat eez not what she told me." Erik sighed. He was being baited, and he knew it.

"What did she tell you?" he asked at last. Mme. Giry looked up from her sewing sadly.

"She haz been 'aving an 'orrible time." She sighed. "she hates 'er 'usband, he never leestens to 'er. Her daughter just died, and 'er 'usband does not even care. Ze girl eez meezerable. Zat eez why she eez coming here. She has divorced her 'usband!" she said this as though it should really cheer Erik up. It only made him angry.

"The fop is treating her like that?!" he exclaimed "I'll kill him!" he got up to go, but Mme. Giry leaped up and pulled on his cape.

"No!" she exclaimed "You will stay here and look after Christine!" Erik suddenly stopped.

"Have you told her I am here?" he asked.

"No." replied Giry. Erik looked thoughtful.

"Keep it that way." He sighed. Giry finally let him go, back through the paneling.

"Oh," she sighed. "my poor, unhappy Erik."

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**A/N: Please review.**


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